


Dream A Little Smaller

by Evondahlkilledthelocals



Series: The Bond Verse [1]
Category: Inception (2010), Skyfall (2012) - Fandom
Genre: Domestic, M/M, The Bond Verse
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-06
Updated: 2012-12-06
Packaged: 2017-11-20 12:00:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,987
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/585190
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Evondahlkilledthelocals/pseuds/Evondahlkilledthelocals
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>(The Bond Verse)</p>
<p>Arthur and Eames decide it's time to have a child and when that child grows up, he turns out to be a bit more than they ever expected him to be.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Dream A Little Smaller

**Author's Note:**

> Reposting from my [tumblr](http://iwillgodownwithmyotp.tumblr.com/) account! I've grown to affectionately call this The Bond Verse and it will be indefinitely a WIP.

When it first occurred to Eames that Arthur was interested in children, Eames could not help but dive into researching just how he could make that happen. Arthur would never bluntly ask Eames, so Eames knew he would have to propose the idea himself. When he stumbled across a page online about surrogate parents and how they work, Eames had to pause and rethink the situation because the idea of his and Arthur’s genes somehow mixing made him more elated than he thought possible. He dug up his sister Priscilla’s number, calling her and asking her what she knew nervously. After a session of “how come you never call” and “how dare you call me after five years of thinking you were dead, Will”, Eames had convinced her that he was serious about his plans of marriage, he really did need her advice, and possibly she would be a candidate to surrogate since she would still do anything for her brother.

* * *

It took Eames two years to get the courage to propose the idea, only a year after they had been married, and Arthur broke the plate he was drying from dropping it. Taking a deep breath, he awaited the response, only to have Arthur nearly tackle him into the island of their kitchen and kiss him senseless, muttering ‘yes’ brokenly over and over as he attempted to hold back his tears of relief. Eames just held him, rocking him in place as they cried together over the millstone of their relationship. Eames called his sister on speaker, crying as he asked her to surrogate for them and received an excited yes in return.  
  
Arthur was more passionate than Eames had ever experienced that night, forgetting the dishes he usually neurotically cleaned in favor of rememorizing every curve and scar on Eames’ body.

* * *

Eames agreed to quit the Dream business, along with spy work and gambling, in order to be the stay at home Dad of the two. Arthur offered and asked multiple times if Eames was entirely sure, but Eames was set in his idea and Arthur could not have been more grateful that he could continue to aid Dom and Ariadne in Dream work. He was thirty-eight by then anyways and could do with some time off. They agreed upon Arthur’s sperm being used, since Eames’ gene pool was already represented. Arthur protested at first, but gave in at Eames’ argument of, “Arthur, it’s my soddin’ sister. I don’t want my bits and bobbles floating around in her. That is just wrong. I’d rather our child have more of you anyways.”  
  
The first few months were simple, spent getting to relearn his sister and her quirks since she moved in with them for the pregnancy. It took two attempts before she was pregnant and Eames would be lying if he said he didn’t cry when he found out. He ran about doing everything for them: picking up her prenatal vitamins, painting Calvin & Hobbes onto the nursery walls, building a crib, buying a years worth of diapers, and stocking up on bottles. His sister insisted she could help, but he would have none of it. Eames was a bit of a mother hen, if Arthur got any say in it.

* * *

Eight months and two weeks after she was declared pregnant, Eames’ sister went into labor. It was a long and grueling ten hours that Eames’ spent pacing the waiting room alone, praying Arthur could work his magic and get back on time. The doctor came to fetch him, telling him it could not wait any longer and that he would need to be there now if he wanted to witness it. So Eames took out his mobile phone, filmed it through his tears, and shot the video off to Arthur once their crying son was brought into the world.  
  
Priscilla asked about names but Eames told her it had to wait. It had to be with Arthur.  
  
Arthur arrived two hours after their son had been born, sweaty and still covered in what looked like rubble and blood. Eames shuffled him into the bathroom, locking the door behind them to attend to the large cut on his arm. Arthur rid himself of his bloodstained shirt, allowing Eames to manhandle him and check his wounds. Eames gave over his hoodie he was wearing, covering Arthur’s poorly treated arm in favor of treating it himself and finally seeing their son together.  
  
They left the restroom and headed towards the hall Priscilla had directed Eames to meet her in. When they arrived, Priscilla met them with a smile and offered to show them their son. Arthur bristled at the term, staring into the room where she pointed with a small twitch of a smile, “Quinn.”  
  
“Hmmm? What was that, darling?”  
  
“Quinn Taylor Eames.”  
  
Priscilla blushed at the inclusion of her middle name as Quinn’s, and Eames hugged Arthur from behind without saying a word, just nodding in response, “Whatever you say, darling…”

* * *

The first three years passed by in a blur and before they knew it, Quinn was four and already showing signs of being just as much of a genius as Arthur had been. He had Arthur’s dark curls and bad eyesight, paired with Eames’ facial structure and mischievous nature. It was quite the deadly combo. The only thing that calmed Quinn was when Arthur would sing him lullabies, so it got to the point that Eames recorded Arthur singing to play for him.  
  
Each holiday was spent with the Cobb family, much to Arthur’s delight. Quinn followed James around, though James was fifteen years his senior, and babbled nonsense at him as he did. Arthur, Eames, and Dom would watch them fondly as they chatted over wine and packing away dinner while Ari and Phillipa would prepare the desert. Eames talked of how good it felt to be retired and not be chased all the time. Arthur would smile, resignedly, and Cobb would stare at his children longingly every time it was brought up.

* * *

On Quinn’s fifth birthday, late July, Arthur casually dropped it into conversation that he was quitting Dream work. They were out on a family trip around their flat in London, Quinn with an ice cream cone in hand and a large smile on his face. His dimples kept distracting Eames, since they reminded him of Arthur, and when Arthur offhandedly mentioned, “Well, I was thinking since I want to screen Quinn’s schools, well academy that is, and help make sure he stays advanced and continue his French lessons that I would just stop going on consultations and stop working in that field.”  
  
Eames dropped his ice cream, much to his dismay, but Arthur would argue that his whines and cries of joy were worth suffering through for the shocked look on Eames’ face.

* * *

The first time it hit Arthur and Eames that Quinn was a bit more advanced than they believed was when his science teacher’s aide approached them in Quinn’s fifth grade year. Quinn was already skipping grades, having passed second without a glance at the work. His teachers all doted on him and claimed he was a boy-genius, but Arthur and Eames tended to be modest about it and would just brush them off. However, when she mentioned to them that he was able to successfully read and solve Chemistry problems from the college text she was studying without asking for help, Arthur and Eames reconsidered the genius claim.  
  
Quinn proved them wrong ultimately when he graduated high school at thirteen. Arthur was crying that day, trying to hide it by claiming he had allergies to the AstroTurf field the graduation was being held on. Quinn knew better and just gave him his reserved smile, letting Eames mess up his curly brown hair. Quinn swatted at his hands with his cap, pouting at his parents, “Father, please. We are in public!”  
  
“Let your father be proud, Quinn.” Arthur chastised, smirking at the scene in front of him, “ _Notre bien-aime_.”  
  
“Uhm, Papa, you are crying. There is no room for your chastising here.”  
  
“Oi, leave Papa alone _mon chéri_ ,” Eames tutted at Quinn, giving him a playful glare as he did. Quinn smirked, much like Arthur would, and took off to join his classmates without another word. Eames knew Arthur hated public displays of any kind, even holding hands, so Eames stood close and casually reached over to hook their pinkies together. Arthur glanced over to him and gave him a bright smile in return.  
  
Eames would never let it down that his actions following the graduation were not his own. That he is well aware if Arthur ever heard what the man had been saying, he would have done the same. But Eames, nevertheless, was not ashamed of his actions. The fact that post graduation, when someone else’s father made a joke about Quinn being a “freak of nature” and “too young to even make a good choice on colleges” that Quinn heard and looked like he took offense to, spawned them justified this in Eames’ mind. Justified throwing a right hook that surely broke the gentleman’s nose and offhandedly commenting that he knew anyone the man could call, would call since they were practically at a mafia ran Prepatory Academy, but they happened to like Eames more and could link him to far worse people than this man could imagine. He had no concern as the man looked terrified and Eames slung his arm around his beaming son’s shoulder.  
  
What concerned him was when Quinn casually asked as they walked back to where Arthur was pulling the car around, “Father, since Papa used to consult in Dream work, would it be bad if I considered it?”  
  
Eames froze, staring down at Quinn with a serious gaze, “How did you know that, Quinn?”  
  
“I saw him come in with a PASIV when I was eight and researched it. I have to say, I never took you or Uncle Dom for working in it too. Same with Uncle Yusef and Auntie Ari.”  
  
“Quinn,” Eames hissed out his son’s name, looking around at the other parents in fear that someone was listening too closely. He all but manhandled Quinn to the car, slamming his door shut in paranoia and demanding Arthur to _DRIVE. NOW ARTHUR._ Once they were a few blocks away, Arthur reminded of the inception job they once performed so long ago with Eames’ urgency asked the question, “What’s going on Eames?”  
  
“Quinn knows about our line of work and the PASIV.”  
  
Arthur swerved into the parking lot that was, thankfully, next to them and slammed on his breaks, throwing the car into park before he whipped around in his seat with a serious look he had not used since Quinn was four, “Who…Who told you?”  
  
“I researched. Honestly, your son is a genius that just graduated with honors at thirteen and a full ride to Brown, Papa, you had to have figured I would guess.”  
  
Arthur and Eames glanced at each other warily but the topic did not come up again.

* * *

The call came Quinn’s fourth year of college. He was already working on his Masters, nearing his final year of it after having flown through his undergraduate with ease. His studies had since relocated to Cambridge, making him an ideal candidate for most research and development divisions. Arthur and Eames were ecstatic and beyond proud that their, now seventeen year-old, son was doing so well for himself. They Skyped with him to check in and he had previously texted them demanding they get on Skype since they were “retired old men”. Eames was the first online, complaining about being called old while Arthur and Quinn both rolled their eyes at him. Arthur and Eames huddled around his iPad, chatting happily with Quinn until Quinn’s gaze became one Eames was all too familiar with. He faltered, staring at his son in confusion, “That is the same look your father has when he is going to tell me some bloody awful news, so spit it out now before I come to Cambridge and hurt someone, yeah?”  
  
“The MI6 want to hire me after I get my doctorate in two years.”  
  
“Bloody hell Quinn, the British Secret Services?”  
  
“Yes. Ironically, want me to be their Quartermaster. Run under the title Q.”  
  
Arthur smiled fondly, shaking his head, “I am so proud of you Quinn.”  
  
“Papa….”  
  
“No, son, we both are,” Eames interjected, taking Arthur’s hand into his own and kissing his knuckles, “So bloody proud we had your father’s gene mixed to make you. So proud you are a part of both of us. You are the greatest thing to ever happen to us, don’t ever think anything different.”  
  
“But…you were spies, Father! I made you leave that!”  
  
Eames laughed, his guttural and deep laugh that only escaped when he was truly emotional, “You made us do no such thing. We both could not bare to be away from you and had made more than enough to last us.”  
  
“Tell me a story Papa. Father, tell me a story of a job you worked together.”  
  
Eames looked to Arthur mentally debating which to share. The story of them running from their mark in Monte Cristo on a job gone bad? The story of when they had to steal a secret from a Buddhist Monk? Eames settled finally, smirking a bit as he started, “It all started when Uncle Dom called me in Mombasa…”  
  
“Actually, it was Papa’s idea, since he had secretly been obsessed with your Father and his Forging work.”  
  
“Ahhh yes, your Papa and I had quite the playful banter back then. Darling, you were such a stick in the mud I could not help it! So condescending…”  
  
“I resent that, Mister Eames.”  
  
“Back to the story, Wart,” Eames cooed at him affectionately, using the nickname of King Arthur to make Arthur cringe. He smirked, turning to face Quinn on the iPad screen once more, “Anyways, so there is this concept called Inception darling…”

* * *

Two years of highly overrated college tuition prices, in Eames’ opinion, and Quinn surprised them all by getting his PhD in Astrophysics and Biochemical Engineering simultaneously. He was only nineteen, still growing into himself and his body, but his Papa and Father were both immensely proud of him and boasted of him frequently. They did not approve of his work in MI6, but the first time Quinn called them hypocritical they both stopped attempting to protest it.

* * *

The first time Quinn came to them with an injury, Arthur panicked. He lectured Quinn for an hour on proper care and that even though he was the point man to Agent 007, he needed to watch his own hind end as well.  
  
Once Arthur left Eames and Quinn to tend to Quinn’s wounds, Eames gave him a wolfish grin and demanded the story in return for his care for the bullet wound in Quinn’s arm and gash on his side that Eames had a distinct feeling a knife caused. Quinn would later start calling his Father, rather than his Papa, to come help him to avoid the lecture he would inevitably receive, but Eames cherished those moments with his son and how proud he was of him for being such a dedicated MI6 member.

* * *

Quinn was twenty-three the first time he brought the elusive boyfriend James home. Arthur and Eames had expected a young, fresh out of college boy with a knack for sweater vest, as that was all they could hope he would be. What they got instead was a man their age, whom Eames had managed to have more than a few unfortunate run-ins with in his past that looked as though he never aged a bit. Eames took Arthur aside to complain that he was not thrilled that James was infact the man Q was designing weaponry and research for. What set Eames over the edge was Arthur’s casual shrug and nonchalant, “I think he’s rather dashing and charming, Eames. Give him a chance.”  
  
That set Eames off. The entire night he brooded over dinner and when Quinn and Arthur excused themselves to have Quinn show Arthur his new design for a computer interface, Eames took James outside to have a chat. He lit a cigarette, a rare habit for him those days, and leaned on their balcony railing with a sigh, “Look mate, I know you and I haven’t got on in the past but Quinn is the light of my life and I will not hesitate to kill you if you hurt him. I know you love him and all, which is why I can forget that you shot me and threw me off the bloody top of Ben, but I will murder you with my bare hands if you so much as harm my boy.”  
  
“I don’t dream of it, Mister Eames.”  
  
“Haven’t changed a bit, ey 007?”  
  
“Your confidence in me is, as ever, reassuring.”  
  
Eames would complain later to Arthur that he should be the only British man making Arthur swoon, but at the reminder that Arthur was infact still in his bed and his life, for that matter, twenty-five years after their marriage had begun settled him. As they passed out that night after the dinner affair had ended and Eames had made sure to remind Arthur just how fantastic of a shag he could be, Eames curled in just a bit tighter to Arthur’s embrace and whispered his love into Arthur’s ear affectionately. At the smile he could literally feel spreading on the front of his shoulder where Arthur tended to keep his lips pressed at night, Eames sighed in relief. Arthur pressed a gentle kiss to Eames’ clavicle, muttering quietly to him, “I love you too William. More than anyone else in this world.”  
  
Eames figured he didn’t have that bad of a life then.


End file.
